The Star Wars (Redacted)
by Jablestar
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far away, a truce was made between conscious creatures and raw nature. It was both a blessing and a curse, and its mysterious nature allowed itself to be used by both good and evil. As the galaxy in which the truce originated comes to terms with its implications, we follow certain characters actively engaged in uncovering the truth about the Force.
1. The Old and the New

**The Old and the New**

The end from the beginning is a strange place to start, but sometimes time doesn't like to follow the rigid paths we set for it. Sometimes, it's almost as if reality gets bored of being as constant and predictable as we make it out to be, so it decides to act out brashly and irresponsibly, if only for a moment, before returning to its normal state for fear of hurting too many of its creatures. It serves as a sober reminder that we are not the masters of reality, but rather its interpreters; a role we ourselves lash out against from time to time only to be eventually put back in our place by the eventuality of any tension between the two parties: nature and us, acting like two juveniles rebelling against each other's self-imposed authority. But every once in a while, a truce is made between the two that offers what some people in some places might consider unnatural consequences. And after enough time, if the truce proves useful, it is put into law as a constant that satisfies both parties. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, one such truce was made, and it proved to be both a catastrophe and a blessing to the universe. It was a mystery how the truce was first made, but it seemed to lead us to two young humans who lived to uncover this mystery's application in their own lives, but who abandoned all such high ranging thoughts for the baser fight or flight response – a feeling that all rookies are accustomed to when fighting for their survival, and this in a war that loses all context of its own existence when in the mind of a troop on the front lines experiencing its chaos firsthand.

Looking up from the swamp-like landscape of a foreign world, a falling star could be seen in the distance. But unlike others that disappeared almost as soon as they appeared, this one grew larger as the seconds passed. Soon, what seemed like a flicker of light passing through the sky revealed itself to be the flaming wreckage of a ship hurdling through the planet's atmosphere. Not only was the ship burning from the atmospheric entry, but it was itself on fire from damage it had incurred from a battle raging in space, but invisible to the naked eye from the surface of this forgotten world. It lit up the night over the swampy growths that could be compared to trees as it passed over them to reach its final destination on the surface. It seemed that nothing could survive such a crash, but the wonders of technology, meant to shift control from natural laws to artificial ones, prevailed – to the chagrin of the ones who shot them down, but to the very great relief of the two men piloting the fighter.

They quickly scampered out, crawling a safe distance away from the burning wreckage. Sitting against the creepy growths that spotted the surface of the planet, one breathed a sigh of relief and the other laughed from the euphoria accompanied by their unlikely survival, soon to be joined by his sighing friend. After a few moments though, their relief turned to anguish as they realized that this planet, despite its breathable atmosphere, was otherwise uninhabited, and their only means of rescue had been forgotten in the burning husk of a ship by one of the rookies who crawled out for life's sake. They watched miserably at the wreckage of what could have already been described as a wreck before its destruction – since these two would certainly not have been given priority for a better ship above others in their unit – and pondered the loss of their only lifeline: an interplanetary beacon in the backseat of the cockpit.

"No one will come for us," said a straightforward and commanding voice.

"What do we do?" said the other.

"We do what no one expects us to. We survive."

For a moment the other young man listened to his words and a spirit of indignation and rebellion against his circumstances took hold of him and strengthened his resolve to live on, but like the end of a candle about to flicker out, that strength faded and the hopelessness of the situation retook hold of his spirit and drove him into a pit of despair, comparable to the pit they had been sitting in for the last little while as they watched their only means of salvation burn away to ashes in front of them. It was gloomy. What should have been dry was wet, and what was wet was wetter still than its observable wetness would imply, penetrating their space-flight suits to their trembling skin. Nothing like a modern human was meant to survive a place like it.

"Nothing can survive a place like this..." said the soldier, whose spirit was sinking ever still

"You're still breathing, aren't you? We only die when I say we die. That's an order, soldier."

"I don't believe you."

"Yea, well..." his voice trailed off as he started to look at his immediate surroundings, "well maybe you shouldn't."

"Inspirational as always."

"Sarcasm at a time like this? Maybe your morale isn't as low as you think it is. We need to stay close to the wreckage. It's freezing, and it's the only thing that can keep us warm through the night. We'll have to find a way to keep the fire going. Let's hope to God these hellish tree things are flammable. Go find us something to burn. I'll try to figure out a way to get the distress beacon out."

"Yes sir!"

He got up and crawled over the brush they were leaning against to find something dry to burn, not realizing that his friend remained unmoved and seated. What he did realize, since this was a swampy terrain, was that there wouldn't be much for burning in the near vicinity, and that whatever was good for fire would likely be higher up in altitude. He saw a hill in the near distance that seemed to peak in between the dense foliage, wanting to be discovered by the soldier but not be too forward with its intention to be found lest it become off-putting by being too audacious. He picked himself up and carried on towards that location, ignoring all the foreign sounds that sounded hungry for his flesh, and the feeling of things crawling along his skin to, in some sick and twisted sense that only nature understands, inhabit him. He had to forget all of these things in order to get to that hill and find something to help his friend. The desire to help another stay alive kept him from declaring his own life unlivable despite the shadows of many-legged things crawling along the brush and watching him.

Enough time had passed as he continued to approach the hill that he began to wonder if he would be able to find his way back. The wreckage burned brightly, sure enough, but the thick tentacles that made up what he could only interpret as a jungle reduced all hope of seeing the light to nothing. He would have to rely on his sense of direction, his intuition, and hopefully a little luck to get back. He entered a clearing when he got close to the base of the hill. The hill stuck out like a stalagmite, but it was unique considering its immediate environment and reached much higher than he initially gave it credit for. Along with this observation was the fact that nothing seemed to be growing around the base of the hill or even on it. He wasted his time and energy to get there, at least as far as finding wood was concerned. He turned to go back into the sea of growing things, but before he could enter back into the thick undergrowth, he sensed something. It was a disturbance that rose up from the base of his gut, going into his heart – making it ache emotionally and beat quickly – then higher up still it entered into his mind and filled it with obsession. He couldn't leave that hill. He had to turn back to it, and so he did.

He went up, and as he did the muddy earth became rocky, and the hard rock became coarse and grassy, as if some kind of thin, stringy mold or fungus was growing on top of it, tangling itself around the stony surface, and the hill seemed to groan at his steps. He continued to climb, but as he did, he knew he had gone too far, so he went back down to just the right spot. Turning to his right, he looked as if it was the direction he ought to go, but his feet became heavy and uncomfortable. To his left, the path felt easier, and his legs loosened up to walk along a small edge high up along the stalagmite until he reached a cave entrance leading into the hill. Whatever stringy fungus was growing on the hillside seemed to be coming from this cave, and the young soldier was not excited to see what it might be coming from. But he had come this far, and considering the ill fate that awaited him regardless, he saw the life that he had to gamble with as something of little worth to preserve, so he entered it, but not before drawing a well crafted hilt from his belt and awkwardly holding it up in front of him. Pressing the ignition button, a blade of light burst out from it and stopped a metre long from the hilt, emitting a green glow and a strange, low hum. He used it as a torch as he moved into the cave to light his way. Step by step he heard a groaning that would change from a low, long winded growl to a high pitched yelp, and as he moved forward the sound became louder and more recognizable. Something was alive and in pain. He wanted to quicken his pace to help whatever it was that was suffering, but he was also horrified that whatever it was that was causing the creature harm might be conscious enough to turn its attention to him. Therefore, he turned off his instrument of light to avoid detection.

To his great surprise, the pitch darkness he was expecting at the closing of his tool only gave way to another light that was being produced. It was soft and gentle like a candle's, but didn't flicker or waver like one; it was constant, almost able to be described as strong. The glow was a blueish purple, and as he stared in wonder he realized that it was coming from the white and grey mold growing on the walls. He reached out and touched it with his bare hand, and it was coarse, but soft, and while it ran along the wall, it didn't grow from it as if it had roots digging into it for sustenance. Its source was further down the tunnel, precisely in the direction he had to go. As he turned the corner, he saw something that would stay in his mind for the rest of his life, as if his mind were stone and the memory a hammer and chisel that etched the image for all the future of his existence. A face, that of an old man, came from the cave wall. Its eyes were closed, and from all appearances it seemed dead, but this aura that it was emanating could only be interpreted as life, only not life as any one of us could understand it; no, this was something much different from our experience of that word "life".

"I don't suppose you could sit down? Your movements have caused me quite a bit of pain, you know, but no matter! I haven't had a guest in ages!" said the face, only its mouth remained shut.

The soldier's eyes widened as he realized that what he had been stepping on was the hair and beard of this old man that had grown along the walls and hillside for what would have had to have been centuries. As he sat in front of him, he saw from where he inferred his hands and feet ought to be that his hair wasn't the only thing that had been growing. His nails ran along in twisted formations, continuing until they would inevitably crack and fall off under their own weight. The old man seemed to be sitting, his legs outstretched as he lay his back against the wall and his head slightly tilted forward, with his hands to his side. His body was completely covered by the hair coming from his head, and served as a cloak to keep him clothed. It was nightmarish to behold.

"Ho ho! Such a young lad! If I had known a little earlier that you were coming, I might have cleaned up the place. Or rather, had you come a little earlier, I might have been able to clean up the place. I seem to have fallen asleep here, you see, and I can't wake up. Well I am awake, as you can so clearly infer from my speaking to you, but I am not as much in my own body as I used to be either. But it is still a great honour to meet you, Qui-Gon Jinn! I hope I'm not being too familial by calling you Quin?" rambled the face.

"... sure?"

"Oh! Ho ho! An inquisitive soul! How I miss the curiosity of youth! And from a Grand Master, no less!"

"Uh... I'm sorry, Grand Master?"

"What? Did I get mixed up again? Oops! I didn't mean to give that away. It's my age, you see. I've been around so long that I forget the time. I'm not as young as I used to be. In fact, none of us are as young as we used to be! Ho ho ho!"

"Am I dead?"

"..."

"Maybe dreaming?"

"Yes! A dream! I think this is more like a dream than it is anything else. But you are not asleep, no. You are awake, and you should not throw any caution to the wind! It isn't safe for you to talk to strangers. It can be dangerous. Ask me to introduce myself."

Quin looked at the expressionless face with suspicion, then asked him what it wanted, "What is your name?"

"How rude! You should know to introduce yourself first before asking someone else his name."

A single eyebrow of Quin's rose up, and he was beginning to feel very unsure about this whole situation, as if this sickly looking old man was more dangerous than anything he could face in the jungle outside.

"But you already know my name. You told it to me," said Quin cautiously.

"What? I did?" said the old man, seemingly sincere. "Oh dear me, I lost track of time again. I introduced you to me, didn't I? So sorry for any offence I've caused."

"No offence caused," he responded almost dismissively before getting to his real statement. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, and I feel a bit crazy for even asking this, but can you see the future? Or maybe you can read my mind?"

"Oh ho, ha ha no, no my child," and the expressionless face seemed to give a soft smile as it continued on, "I've just been around long enough to know what it is that a person is when I see it."

"See it? But your eyes are closed, and as for the rest of you-"

"Oh dear me! Would it make you feel better if I had my eyes and mouth open from time to time?"

Immediately the eyes of the old man flew open to reveal dark blue eyes that stared forward, but without any focus on anything in front of them as if they were dead. As the old man started to speak again, the mouth artificially opened and closed like the performance of a bad ventriloquist, and Quin couldn't take it and protested as politely as he could to the seemingly benevolent, yet somehow twisted, spirit.

"No, please! You can keep the eyes closed. And the mouth too. Please keep the mouth closed."

"Hm... alright. I don't want to make my guest feel uncomfortable. Why are you here?"

"I need wood, or something like it, to burn, so I can keep my fire going. My ship crashed not far from here and my friend and I need to find a way to survive."

"Yes, he is a true friend. I had one once too. A long time ago, it was. She was my best friend, so I married her. I loved her so much, and I still do. I miss her dearly. I hope to find her soon."

"Maybe I can help? My friend and I are probably going to be here for a while anyway, and now that I know that there are other people on this planet it might be good to make contact with them and-"

"No, young man. It is good that you would do this for me, and I see that you would do it if you could, and so I thank you for it. But she is not here any longer, and as for the other people you infer to be on this planet, there are none. We are only three in total, and you are now acquainted with all of them. But you will not be here for long, as you seem to think."

"You know a way off this planet?"

"Of course. The easiest way is to go up through the atmosphere with some sort of flying machine!"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I believe you meant to ask me my name."

"Of course. What is your name?"

"My name... well it has been a long time. Let me see now... ah yes. It is Revan."

Quin's cautious apprehension turned to fear and dread. The Terror of the Old Order, the Dark Knight Revan, was a name that no one spoke but everyone knew too well – a nightmare from the distant past somehow made its way to the present, and Quin somehow knew the old man was speaking the truth about his identity. Frozen by the fear being stirred up by his mind, Quin sat expressionless as he turned pale and gave in to his fate. But this fear stood in stark contrast to the presence of the old man in the cave. A gentle warmth surrounded him and pressed against Quin's mind, raising it up to a place where he could rationally receive the information about to be presented to him.

"Do not be afraid, young one. I am not the Terror I once was, as you can clearly see. I am only a shadow of that man. In fact, all that is left is a story waiting to be told before I finally fade away. Will you listen to my story?"

While Quin's body was still experiencing the instinctual reaction of fear – the beating heart, the cold sweat, and the stiffness – his mind began to rise above that state and converse with Revan.

"Yes, I am willing. Tell me your story, Sir Revan."

"You certainly know how to please an old man. Where should I begin? Oh yes. Circles. There are so many circles! All the time, all that is time... always around it goes! But I thought I could make it go forward without curving backwards. Ha! The brashness of youth, indeed! I was once a young lad like yourself, eager to fight for what I believed in. All I knew, however, was fighting, and the Grand Masters of my time knew this. They didn't stop me as I crushed the foes of our Order, but they were never pleased with my performance. I began to resent them for this, and this resentment eventually caused me to see them as foes of the Way of our Order because it didn't conform to _my_ order. I fell into a pit of bitterness and let it twist me. My gifts and my talents were turned against my own brothers and sisters, and I slew them in droves, without mercy or compassion. I would force the Way, our Way, onto the rest of the galaxy and bring about an age of enlightenment. But brute force does not bring about change, it only stifles it. You see, there are many minds that make up the galaxy, and so the forcing of one mind over the rest slows change proportional to the amount of minds that are being suppressed. Also, despite my affinity for it, it turns out minds are very difficult to control. The most difficult one to manage was hers.

"Oh my... it is coming back to me now... she was so beautiful, and strong willed as well. But she would not love me. I saw in her the galaxy I was trying to rule. Try as I might, I could not have her. In her I found what I wanted, and what I wanted was the antithesis of my actions. And so, I realized my shortcomings, and so did my apprentice. My epiphany was my moment of weakness, and so he turned against me and struck me down in an attempt to kill me, as any good apprentice of mine would have done. However, she saved my life from the brink of death. She would not have me for what I was, but she was still willing to save my life. Not much of my life was left, however. After the many blows I endured from my apprentice, and her nursing me back to health, I could not recall anything of my life before the attack. But not only was my memory left behind, but so was my deeply rooted bitterness. No longer blinded by it, I saw the galaxy I had shaped for what it was, and it disgusted me. I fought against it with all my might, and in the process lost many people close to my heart who were gracious enough to give me a second chance to make things right. When I finally succeeded, there were only ashes left of the Old Order. Ashamed of my actions, I went into exile."

Quin was surprised at what Revan was telling him. The human who terrorized the galaxy was also the one who rescued it from the legacy of that terror. Another bit of information lost by the fragmentation of the Holocron eons after the Star Wars, no doubt.

"Is that when you came here?" Quin asked.

"No no. I lived a quiet life as a farmer on the planet Dantooine. She came to visit me from time to time, and then she loved me. I could not have been happier. I became strong in the Way, and unravelled the mysteries of the universe, not as a mighty general of an army, but as a farmer loving his wife and being loved by his wife. But as all things come, they must eventually go. The hole in my soul, created by her departure, cannot be filled by anything in the universe but her, but all things considered, I handled her death pretty well. I didn't run off and blame the universe like I had before. Even now my head still hangs in shame for those events I caused. After several centuries on Dantooine-"

"Wait a moment," Quin interjected. "I've been meaning to ask this for a while now. How is it that you lived for centuries on Dantooine? How are you here, talking to me right now, thousands of years after the Star Wars?"

"It is quite simple, really. I live in the Living Force, you see. It is the energy that is all around us. It moves us, sways us, it binds us to each other. It is what brought you here. Surely you've felt it! I simply lived and kept on living, just as the Force is alive."

But Quin pressed on further: "I am a Jedi Knight of the Order. I know the teachings of the Masters and am one with the Force. How did you-"

"Ha! Are you truly one with it, child? Then why did you have to exposit your titles, status, and learnings before so declaring it? You did not choose to be born. Life is its own gift. It is the gift of the living Force. All living things are one with the Force, not only the Jedi Knights."

Quin protested, "But the Sith! They gave themselves to the dark side of the Force and brought about death and destruction! They skew the will of the Force and bring confusion and imbalance. Do you expect me to believe that the enemy of the Order is one with the Force?"

"I do not call into question that there are those who would set themselves up as enemies against all that is alive," responded the ancient Jedi. "I was Sith, once. But they are themselves alive, you see, and they are not seeking the destruction of all things but the destruction of things that oppose their own desired order of things; a galaxy better suited to their own needs and wants. Therefore I ask you, is there really a dark side to the living Force, as you and your Order have always taught, or is there simply the twisting of its will to accommodate the dark side of your own nature?"

A dedicated student of the Jedi Order, Quin declared, "Heresy! You were twisted by the dark side and now you seek to turn me. I will not fall to the dark side."

Revan's face now smiled calmly, but this smile was not as artificial as the previous ventriloquist's performance. Revan was indeed smiling.

"No, you will not fall. You will rise above as a true student of the Force. May I continue my story?"

Quin considered the consequences of continuing to listen to the old soul that could very well sow the seeds of the Dark Side in his mind, but perhaps because of the encouragement provided by the the very man he was suspicious of, he was brave enough to let him continue.

"Please, go on."

"Good! Now where was I... yes of course. I was centuries old at this time, and my heart was still broken by her death. I decided once again to try and break the cycle, only without power and control as my weapons. Instead, I would make things move forward by cutting off the present from the past."

"It was you! You fragmented the Holocron?! You plunged the galaxy into another dark age! Do you even know what you cost us-"

"Only fragmented? I thought I destroyed it. And you seem to know quite a bit about me so... oh dear me, I see now what this has cost you, your friends, and others like us. I am very sorry. Again, the brashness of youth overcame me and I thought I could do what only the will of the Force can do through its chosen instruments. I have failed the galaxy twice, but I will not fail it again. Now it is time for me to leave it, and trust in the Force."

"It would have been better had you never been here in the first place," said a bitter Qui-Gon Jin.

"Your words cause me great pain, for there is some truth in them. The bitterness you express is a direct result of my actions. But the words you have used to express that pain are incorrect. It would not have been better had I never been born. Whatever the will of the Force may be, it cannot ultimately be destroyed by anyone, but can only be slowed, and this only because of its humility. It is arrogance to suggest otherwise." Quin had no answer to give to the heretic, and so Revan continued, "It is time for me to leave. I want to go to her at last. I have told you everything you need to hear, and shown you everything you need to see. Fear not, you will not die here, and neither will your friend. I have summoned your allies, and they are coming. Go back to your friend, young one, and I will now go see mine, to be made whole once more."

Returning to his body, Quin felt his wet jumpsuit as he sat staring at the shell of Revan. Slowly, the glowing aura coming from Revan's body faded until finally the pitch darkness of the cave took all sight away from Quin. He reached for his hilt and ignited the green beam of energy once more, but the face in the wall was gone. He looked around and even the hair along the walls and the nails stretched across the ground had disappeared. Was Revan ever even there in the first place?


	2. The Jedi Way

**The Jedi Way**

Ben was running through the halls of the temple, completely oblivious to the sacred nature of his surroundings. He found it entertaining to look at things from perspectives they were never meant to be looked at. So an ancient Jedi relic, a vase carrying symbolic meaning as an empty vessel to be filled with water just as the body is meant to be an empty vessel filled with the Force, was far more engaging and amusing a sight to him broken than it was whole. Unfortunately for Ben, this opinion was not shared by his master in the Jedi Way – Yoda – or the other members of the temple clergy.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi! Last time out of sight, I leave you!" Yoda cried out in his usual grammatically awkward sentence structures. For all his learning as a scholar of the Force and a warrior of the Order, he could never quite grasp the basics of Galactic Standard language. This actually seemed to be a problem for most members of his tiny species, who preferred to communicate with body language and hand gestures over sounds with their mouths. "One year after military school, and nothing have you learned! Cast out you should be from the Order!" and the clergy stood behind him nodding their angry faces in agreement.

"Master Yoda, I didn't mean to break it," whined the young human. He internalized the shame he felt from those angry stares, not showing a single thing. This was easy for him, as he had gotten quite used to it over the course of his short life.

"Intention important, yes, but action as well. Learn you must, that action is always interpreted before its intention is explored."

"I don't really understand what that means Yoda..." said the sceptical youth.

"If less time you spent running around and more attending ceremonies, the teachings of the Masters you would grasp."

"Why do I need them when I already have the best one as my teacher?" said Ben slyly.

"Work not, flattery will," said Yoda. "Patient too long, have I been. Training of a different sort, you require. Different teacher, perhaps."

"What?!" Ben cried. "It's just a stupid vase! I can buy a new one that works just as well as this one."

"Understand, you do not. Come with me, you will."

Yoda, dressed in the somewhat luxurious ceremonial garb of the Order as a Jedi monk and Grand Master, walked away from the angry mob who approved of the chastisement of the young apprentice; a mob that failed to understand why a legendary warrior like Master Yoda would have taken on a member of the most disregarded species in the galaxy as his sole apprentice. Ben turned to follow him out of the temple. Once they were out of sight of the prejudiced onlookers, Yoda opened up to his apprentice.

"Aggressive, I was, in the temple. Apologize, I must," said Yoda.

"I know Master. You had to keep those stiffs in there happy-"

"No! My chastisement, do not reproach. Only its manner. A son you are to me. More delicate, should it have been."

Ben knew he was right, and he trusted his master completely, even though he didn't always understand him – all too often literally, considering his speech patterns. Had it not been for Yoda taking pity on him as a toddler, he would have been left to rot in the orphanage where he likely would not have lived to see the eighteenth birthday he just celebrated.

Yoda looked at Ben with a solemn look, "A new master, you require."

"No! Yoda please..." said Ben with genuine sadness.

"Enough, padawan. Chin up, shoulders straight!"

Obi-wan immediately straightened up and expressionlessly looked to his Master, ready to receive his instructions as his apprentice.

"Strong, you are, with the Force. But your spirit, afflicted by darkness, it is. Prove, you must, to everyone, that you are strong, and that the centre of attention, you must be. A bad habit, this is. Cause, it can, your exile from the Order."

It took all of Ben's strength to hold back his emotions at those words. His whole life, the only thing he knew was the Jedi Order. Its teachings made a moderately respectable young man out the delinquent he was meant to be. His only wish was to prove to others that his humanity wasn't a reason to disqualify him from a normal life. He hated sitting at Jedi services for the masses, seeing the dwindling numbers of the faithful meditate on the words of the presiding Jedi Consular. But it was the only place where he could be treated relatively normal by all the galactic species, at least until the service was over and they left the building. Then he was just another sith-spit.

"Return to the council, you must," continued Yoda. "Judgement there, you will receive."

Ben was a bit confused, but sensed that his master wanted him to go now while he performed damage control from his actions in the temple. He swallowed his hurt feelings and hid his swollen, watery eyes behind his slightly mischievous smirk, making him look like less of an easy target to bandits living in the area around the old temple on the 33rd level beneath the surface of Coruscant, the planet-wide city that literally stretched into the sky.

Ben was luckier than most. As a catechumen, or padawan as the Jedi say, under the supervision of Grand Master Yoda, the head of the High Council of Jedi Knights at Coruscant, he could freely go from the lower levels of the city to the very top, where the Council presided in the highest tower of the temple in the capital district of Coruscant. This enabled him to see the disparity between those at the very bottom of the planet, whom the Order would send missions and aid to feed and clothe the poor, and those at the very top who could travel from one side of the galaxy to the other with ease. He still needed to be careful as he approached the top, however. Any security guard who didn't respect the dying ways of the Order wouldn't care who he was a disciple of as long as he was a member of the species responsible for the Star Wars and subsequent Dark Ages. Any slip up in courtesy or if he accidentally looked into the eyes of a security guard a second too long and he would end up with a black eye and several broken bones before making it to the temple in Central District. As Ben walked through the crowded streets, he kept one hand on his blaster pistol and the other holding the precious symbol and traditional weapon of his Order, the hilt of his light sabre, a significant status symbol that could help him when going through the security checkpoints on his way to the top.

Thankfully without incident thanks to a guard whose family he had recently fed on a mission with his master, he made his way onto the express elevator that would take him directly to the highest level of the planet. The elevator was as much a tourist attraction for the rich as it was a convenient way to get from one place to the other. The shaft was made of a see-through metal alloy that allowed its occupants to see kilometres around as they rose or descended from level to level. Going up from the very bottom was a favourite pastime of Garunda, a spoiled, rotund twi'lek whose father was a senator. She took as much pleasure flaunting her superiority as she did taking in the view from the elevator ride. Unfortunately for Ben, she happened to be riding the elevator at this time.

"Heeey Obi-Whiny. How goes the bottom feeding?" She asked in her most irritating tone of voice. Ben hoped that remaining silent would be enough to have her leave him alone, but he didn't need to be an empath like her species to know that this was too much to wish for. "Your silence speaks volumes. Or rather, the sith-spit cry-baby you keep trapped inside is really wagging my tails."

Twi'lek's had two long tentacles protruding from their heads, extensions of their nervous systems that connect directly to their brains. A popular theory among their people is that their sensitive lekku, as they are called, are the source of their empathic abilities despite amputees retaining their sensitivity to others' emotional states. But the theory reigns supreme in the minds of the masses, and expressions like "wagging my tails" or "twitching my twees" became synonymous with the human expressions "sick to my stomach" and "pain in the neck". Ben would have liked to pull her lekku apart, but quickly pushed those feelings down as deep as he could before she could read – or rather, feel – them. He wasn't entirely successful. Her cruel smile turned to a pout before she thought of some devious way to humiliate the human padawan.

"Oops!" she said while dropping her purse. "How ever will I be able to reach all the way down there with my physique... You there, padawan, pick up my carry-on!"

This was something of a trap to those who follow the Jedi Code of Chivalry, which had listed a series of gestures and responses that were appropriate for how to treat a noble lady, but all of which would be considered an affront to common decency if applied by a human. Ben tried to find the middle ground and, without looking her in the eyes, he leaned down to where she dropped it and grabbed the purse, but before he could get back up and hand it to her, the uneventful elevator ride turned eventful.

"Help! Please! This pervert human tried to peek up my skirts and... and steal my purse! Guard!" she cried with the least sincerity she could muster, only driving the point home that no sincerity was needed to fuel tribal prejudices.

'Great,' Ben thought as he nodded his head, expecting the worse to come. He was not wrong in his assumption as he felt a painful, blunt hit to his head from the butt of a guard's rifle before blacking out. Garunda smiled as her plan went exactly as she had intended.

* * *

The door to his dingy cell swung open to reveal a tall human man in an old, dingy cloak. Ben couldn't quite make out his face since the bright light coming in from the hallway made it difficult for him to see after several days in one of Coruscant's lower level dungeons.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Ben.

"A friend of the magistrate. Come with me, young one."

Ben stood up and walked along behind him. He knew better than to ask too many questions, but he thought it was strange that a human could call himself a friend of the magistrate. He wanted to get a better look at him but he was hooded. Who was this man?

They walked out of the hallway and into a judgement hall. The man who led him stood at the entrance while Ben was brought along by a guard to his seat. The magistrate stood at the podium facing the room, which was surprisingly empty considering this was a trial that had played to all the prejudices of the media. An older, thin twi'lek sat at one end of the room next to Garunda, and she looked as though things went a little further than she had anticipated. Ben was seated next to his master, Yoda, who didn't even turn to look at him as he was brought in.

"A statement from the accuser is allowed," said the magistrate.

The tall, thin twi'lek stood up, and Ben expected the barrage of usual accusations against his species: that this is all he could amount to, that all his kind were thieves and rapists, and that he should just be left to rot with all the other humans down below.

The twi'lek spoke, "I am Gar-Nek Shilla, the representative of Ryloth and the twi'lek people to the Galactic Republic. And I hereby place my statement before the court against the accused: my daughter, Garunda Shilla, for the crimes of disturbing the peace and making false accusations causing bodily harm to an innocent civilian."

Ben turned red in embarrassment. It was so ingrained in him to be the scapegoat that the thought of a twi'lek noble being brought to court for crimes against him made him feel oddly ashamed and, moreover, terrified at what consequences might follow after this trial. He looked over at Garunda who seemed just as surprised as he was at what was happening, and she began to wail tearfully to her father.

"Daddy! I wasn't lying! I was scared and-"

"Silence!" declared the magistrate. A harsh woman to be sure, this fierce looking Gamorean magistrate was as no nonsense as it came, and it made her famous and widely respected despite her office being held in one of the lower levels of the city. Thanks to her leadership, crime in the human ghettos dropped significantly on Coruscant despite her being a different species from them.

"But Daddy!" cried Garunda.

The presiding guard raised his ceremonial staff and stated, "The Magistrate Shiara has ordered silence in the court. Should the accused not comply, the charge of being in contempt of court shall be added against her. What say you?"

Garunda began to hold back her feigned wailing, revealing the much more calculating and strong-willed persona lying just underneath the surface.

"I will comply," she responded submissively.

Senator Shilla continued, "Should it please this court, the minimal sentence is being requested since this is her first offence."

"I have reviewed the evidence thoroughly, the statements of witnesses on the elevator, the testimony of the accused's father who received a confession of the event, and the guard who brought Obi-Wan Kenobi into protective custody..." the magistrate continued while Ben started to imagine what prison in this dungeon would be like if what he experienced was protective custody. "... while a maximum sentence of one year in prison and a minimum sentence of a permanent criminal record is considered legitimate, this court will now hear the recommended punishment from the victim, as is his right, to be considered by this court before the final judgement is made."

All eyes in the court turned to Ben. He looked around, expecting the practical joke to end, but everyone was waiting for him to speak. He now began to realize why this courtroom didn't have the usual cameras to entertain the bored people of the Republic from their mundane lives from home. He slowly stood up and looked over at Garunda. He could see the fear in her eyes. She did not deserve any leniency from him, and she knew it.

"Your honour," Ben began, before stopping and taking a moment to think over this whole situation. "Your honour? I... would like it if she were made to join the Jedi on their next mission to the 33rd. We aren't as many as we used to be, and we need the help."

Silence took hold of the room. Even the stenographer stopped for a moment before continuing on his holopad.

The hooded man at the door who brought Ben to the courtroom smiled and then left quietly before the judgement was rendered.

The magistrate was astounded at the pragmatic response of the young human. Ben's recommendation would even stop Garunda from having a criminal record since helping the Order on aid missions below the 10th level is considered dangerous and no one with a criminal record is allowed to minister there for fear of corruption and potential bribery.

Magistrate Shiara lifted her right hand and covered her eyes with her left before speaking, "It is the wisdom of this court to recognize the right of the victim, and therefore grant the requested punishment. Two charges were placed against her of which she is found guilty. Therefore, she will accompany the Jedi on two aid missions to the the 33rd. This session is adjourned."

Master Yoda stepped down from his seat and began to walk out of the room, his head down with Ben in tow.

"How did... How did any of this happen?" asked Ben.

"A generous donor, Senator Shilla is, to the Jedi Council. Your decision in court, a reward, it is, to the Senator's faith in the Way."

This was rare indeed. An upper class, well-educated senator who was a charismatic follower of the Way and didn't see any distinction between human or twi'lek before the law, even if the accused was his own daughter. And a magistrate who would set up the court to attract the least amount of media attention was the best way to keep this situation from blowing out of proportion, negatively affecting his political career and causing hate crimes against humans. All of this seemingly thanks to that mysterious hooded man...

"I have failed you, Obi-Wan," Yoda said.

Ben was confused, but didn't want his master to feel like a failure on account of him, but before he could speak, Yoda continued.

"Ashamed, am I, of my training. Your humanity, I did not consider. I should have."

"Master? What are you saying?"

"Sifted, it must be, the darkness from the light," continued Yoda. "Experience, I do not have, of your life. Only knowledge of it. Another, with similar experience, you must meet. A new Master, a human one."

Ben was confused. There were very few human Masters in the Order, and even less who hadn't taken on an apprentice. When they did, it would usually be a member of a more highly regarded species to bolster their own public image. This didn't seem like a logical choice unless...

"No... Yoda please. Not him," and Ben bit his tongue before forcing himself to continue despite his better judgement. "He's actually insane."

"Insane, he is not. Unorthodox, he is. Remind me of you, he does. And your freedom, to him it is owed"

Now biting his tongue after receiving what he interpreted as an insult, he just turned and walked away from his master feeling betrayed. The hooded man at his cell had to have been him. He was trying to steal an almost fully trained apprentice from the Head of the Council as some sort of power play. Frustration and rage started to build up inside of him.

"Trust me, you must," Yoda said in a fatherly tone. He leapt up onto Ben's shoulder, surprisingly nimble for an eight hundred year old with a cane, and rested his hand on Ben's head. "Your well-being I have in mind."

Ben knew he was going to be the laughing stock of the whole Order. Not only was he going to be released from his previous master, a degrading prospect to any follower of the Jedi Way studying to become a Knight, but he was going to be assigned to the most ridiculed Master in the Order.

"Humbled, I am, by what you did today. Great wisdom, you have. I had not taught you well in the Jedi Way, I thought. But learned, you have, in your own way how to walk it."

Ben's feeling of betrayal and rage subsided and turned to pride; the sort that a son feels when his father tells him he did well.

"No more training have I to offer you. To be a man, a human man, you must learn how. Return to Central District, we must. The Council awaits us."

* * *

At the Council hearing Yoda took his seat at the centre of the semi-circle comprised of dozens of seats surrounding a massive chamber. Many of the seats were vacant, as those to be found worthy of the Council were getting worryingly low. But still, most of the seats were not vacant, and many of the species of the galaxy were represented in it. It is in this context that after a thousand years, a human finally made his way to the Supreme Council of Coruscant: General Mace Windu.

Mace wasn't his real name, of course, but a nickname he earned during the Outer Rim Schism – a war that ended about twenty years ago. It described his brutal yet effective way of dealing with his foes: use overwhelming and unrelenting strength to break through the enemy's defences, dividing enemy troops on the battlefield. This war time strategy also applied itself to his light sabre duelling style, which he developed himself. The many victories he brought to the Republic, despite their overall loss of the war to reclaim the always loosely held Outer Rim, granted him a certain level of immunity from most of the discrimination levelled towards his species. Every human in the galaxy saw Grand Master General Windu as the epitome of success for their species. He was a war hero, an icon, perhaps even an idol.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood at the centre of this assembly, with his eyes set on one of those empty seats near Master Windu. He thought he would sit in one of them someday, against all odds, and in an attempt to emulate General Windu, Ben joined the military academy to hopefully join the Republican Armed Forces. But of course, that was before Yoda thought to make his reassignment a public matter for the Council to discuss...

"This council is assembled to discuss the final matter for today: the dissolving of Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi's relationship to his master, High Councillor Yoda," said Master Windu, "and the reassigning of his apprenticeship to another master: Sir Qui-Gon Jinn."

Ben rolled his eyes and quickly closed them, pretending to blink awkwardly instead of showing contempt for his master's decision to reassign him in front of the council.

Councillor Ki-Adi Mundi, a known human sympathizer, spoke up first, "Why is his reassignment necessary? We have all read the reports of what happened during his trial. If it weren't for the discretion taken by the Magistrate to protect Senator Shilla's political career, he would be a public exemplar of our Way. We should be discussing his knighthood, not his next master."

Ben's disposition began to brighten.

"If he were truly ready," interjected Master Windu, "then he would have managed to avoid that debacle in the first place."

"Considering the terrible circumstances you found yourself in during the war and the way you turned it into a way to get ahead, I'm surprised you should so quickly refuse a similar opportunity to another of your kind," Councillor Mundi replied.

"This has nothing to do with his humanity," Windu responded.

"You are wrong Master Windu. It is precisely because of his humanity that he found himself in that situation," said Mundi. "To say otherwise is disingenuous to the point of deception."

Mace Windu's head turned up exposing his chin, a habit of defiance he gained as a soldier defying suicidal orders for the sake of his mostly human company during the war. And despite his high social status as a general of the Republic when compared to Master Mundi's, who was a low level politician involved in political activism towards special interest groups like humans, in the Jedi Temple his secular rank meant nothing and they were equals.

"Perhaps we should let the head of this council, Kenobi's master, decide," said Mace, as all the councillors in the room turned their attention to Yoda.

Yoda's eyes were closed and his body still, seemingly pondering over the situation that confronted him to an almost meditative degree. After several minutes of indulging his silence, the council grew weary and asked him for his decision, but Yoda remained motionless. Finally, the answer the council had been waiting for arrived trough Yoda's nostrils: snoring.

"Master..." said Ben despairingly, feeling like his future was not of particular importance to his sleeping Master.

Master Windu, who was seated right next to Master Yoda, tried to discreetly lean over and nudge him awake, only making the situation more awkward.

"We know he's asleep!" cried one councillor.

"Just wake him!" said another.

Finally, Mace shook him violently before Yoda, shocked to his senses, scurried up Windu's arm at lightning speed and held his cane up to Windu's eye ready for the attack. After finding his bearings, the great warrior hopped down from Master Windu's shoulder and walked back to his tiny chair.

"Long day, it has been," said Yoda, "and my youth, spent. Has a conclusion been reached?" but before any one could speak he continued, "Decided, then, it is. To Sir Qui-Gon, Padawan Kenobi shall be assigned. Adjourned this meeting is."

And at that, Ben was no longer Yoda's apprentice, but belonged to a crazy old man whose beliefs bordered on the heretical. His idealized future sitting next to Windu on the Council, being best friend's with Mundi, and marrying a twi'lek princess had just disintegrated. The Council, with great pomp, disassembled, and those who lived as Jedi monks returned to their luxurious chambers in the temple while the rest went back to being business owners, military officers, senators, and the like. Ben stayed behind until no one was left except for his master, now standing in front of him.

"Upset, you are, with my decision," said Yoda.

"I thought I would at least have had the say of the Council to help out my case," Ben responded.

"Unlikely, as most wish not to interfere in others' apprenticeships unless something to gain, they have," and Yoda then started his long walk back to his chamber.

"So then when Master Mundi and Windu spoke up, it wasn't really about me then, was it?" asked Ben.

Yoda smiled at his student's growing wisdom.

"Important, a cause is. At the expense of the individual, more often than not," said the master. "My final lesson before you go."

Finally reaching his door, Yoda hopped up on Ben's shoulder and gave him a hug, while Ben lay his hand on Yoda's back.

"Miss you, I will," said Yoda.

"Me too, Master..."

"To the gymnasium, you must go. There, your new Master awaits you."

Yoda hopped down and turned to Ben one last time before closing the door to his chamber. After a moment staring at the dark wooden doors, intricately decorated with abstract patterns that the city's modern interior designers would find abhorrent and overly detailed, he started to walk down the massive hallway of the temple lined with huge statues of past monks and knights who made it into the Order's long line of traditions and legends. Ben reached the gymnasium and slumped himself against the side of the door, looking unenthusiastically at the hooded figure sitting in a meditative state out from the balcony facing the top level of the city.

It was that same ugly brown robe that he saw in the Magistrate's jailhouse. It was completely covered in patches from wear and tear over the years, and contrasted highly with the more traditional garb of the Jedi Monks, who liked to keep their symbolic accoutrements on prominent display. Qui-Gon wasn't a traditional monk either, who lived in a temple in community with others. He was an anchorite, a hermit, who preferred to meditate on the Force on his own, coming to conclusions without the input of more traditional Jedi, which would often lead him into doctrinal conflict with them. At others times, however, he would arrive at shockingly astute conclusions about the nature of the Force and life that would leave most disciples of the Way at a loss for words. But the apprentice of Grand Master Yoda, the leader of the High Council at Coruscant, was not even close to being intimidated by this reject. He slumped down next to his new Master and looked out at the city.

"So... what's up?" asked Ben.

"The sky," replied Master Jinn.

"Very deep stuff, Master."

"A depth proportional to that of the question, and hopefully not a reflection of the depth of the questioner."

Ben's eyes widened as he finally realized that he had been insulted. He stood up and looked down at his Master, ready for a challenge.

"I don't care what Master Yoda says. You'll never be my real Master!" said Ben with pleasurable defiance.

"Indeed," replied Master Jinn. "But neither is Yoda. The only thing that we can truly master is our own selves. And even then, what is it about ourselves that we come to master? Can we control our heart rates, when we feel tired, the colour of our hair and eyes or our breathing when we sleep? We control what we can of our mental faculties but even they will eventually degrade. Our only true master is the Nameless Force, and our only discipline to master is our trust in it."

Ben couldn't help but notice that Jinn's clarity of thought and precision in explaining his philosophy was impressive – and mostly right while still clearly being unbounded by tradition – but he couldn't give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

"Deflection!" Ben cried. "Clearly the context of my statement wasn't about the nature of the Force and our role to play in it, but it was about defying your authority over me!"

"Very bluntly put, young one. If you wish to substitute the ways of the Living Force for the laws of nature without it, then authority is not assumed or granted out of respect and dignity of the individual, but taken by force by the strongest. Is this the way you wish to proceed?"

Ben stood his ground against his new master.

"Yea, it is! I'm one of the strongest light sabre duellists around, and Master Yoda thinks I'm strong in the Force. The only reason I'm not knighted is because-"

"It is because you are, as one might put it, Obi-Whiny?"

Ben drew his light sabre and activated it, a brilliant blue blade of energy extending from its hilt.

"That's it! It's just you and me now. Let the better Jedi win!"

Master Jinn stood up and pulled back his hood, revealing long hair and a surprisingly well kept beard. He must have been between forty and fifty, and in remarkably good shape for his age.

"Agreed!" said Master Jinn with a smile on his face. "But you are not a Jedi Knight yet! Should you defeat me, I will grant you your knighthood, and you will never have to worry about masters again. But if I win," said Master Jinn, "you have put your loud mouth to good use and accept your apprenticeship to me."

Ben was surprised at the challenge of his master, which struck him as a gambling bet, but excitedly accepted anyway as he saw his chance to get out of his bad situation once and for all. He imagined the cheering Jedi Knights congratulating him on defying the Order's biggest whack-job and gaining his knighthood in spite of it. That seat next to Windu on the Council was looking more in reach than ever.

Ben excitedly rushed over to the duelling arena in the gymnasium. He took a traditional defensive stance, with one foot planted in front of the other, with his weight divided more heavily on his back leg than his front, while his light sabre stood directly in front of his upper body, prepared equally for attack and defence. Master Jinn stood on the other end of the arena with his arms crossed. Ben waited for him to draw his light sabre.

"Uh... aren't you going to take it out?" asked Ben.

"Take what out?

"Your light sabre."

"No."

"Why not?'

"I won't need it."

Ben thought about the dignity of attacking an unarmed opponent.

"Take it out," Ben insisted.

"No!"

"I won't fight you without it!"

"We agreed to a duel. We never stated it had to be with light sabres."

"You knew what I meant! I'm not playing around here. I'm not bragging when I say I'm one of the best. Master Yoda taught me himself, and he says it's the only Jedi Art I'm good at!"

"I'm not sure he meant that as a compliment. But in any case, now show me!"

Again Ben thought about it, and then the thought of being granted his knighthood took precedence over his dedication to honour in the duelling arena, and he went for the attack. With a flurry of spins and twirls and an awkward sounding war-cry meant to inspire fear, he approached his opponent before somersaulting over him for the strike. At the split second when Qui-Gon was in Ben's blind spot – as Ben's attack was one which sacrificed visual acuity for the ferocity of the attack – something hard hit him heavily on the back, winding him and forcing him to deactivate his laser sword as he took the fall in order to protect his limbs from his own weapon. He rolled over onto his knees and stood back up in a ready position, his light sabre reactivated.

"Impressive!" stated Qui-Gon. "You took that hit as gracefully as one would expect from one of the best duellists. It's not easy to lose with dignity."

"We're just getting started old man!" and Ben pounced towards Master Jinn before having his hands grabbed mid strike and being dragged up face to face with his much taller opponent.

Ben looked at him with a mixture of surprise and awe at the speed and strength Qui-Gon commanded before noticing him smirk with pleasure before head butting him. Ben dropped his light sabre and fell down, gripping his head with his hands and grunting in pain.

"That was less impressive," stated Qui-Gon, folding his arms across his chest again.

"This isn't fair!" said Obi-Wan.

"I know! I'm unarmed!"

"No! You're supposed to duel me with your light sabre. I can't fight you seriously when you're not being serious."

"Very well then," said Qui-Gon thoughtfully. "I promise to use my light sabre in our next encounter."

Ben stood up on his end of the arena and regained his balance. This was it. Jinn was going to draw his blade. Ben closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and recalled the things Master Yoda taught him about martial arts. Breathe. Become one with the Force. And suddenly he felt a sharp pain against his head, knocking him back to his knees.

"What the hell was that?" cried Ben, and as he looked around he saw Master Jinn's hilt on the ground in front of him. "You threw it at me?!"

"Well you did make me promise to use it."

"I wasn't even ready! My eyes were closed... I was focusing-"

"You can't close your eyes in the middle of a duel and expect your opponent not to take advantage of you. Do you think your enemy on the battle field cares if your eyes are opened or closed? If you're armed or unarmed? He won't wait until you're ready to fight before he strikes you down. A duel is not a game. If you want to defeat me, you have to come at me fully intending to kill me."

Ben's frustration subsided as he looked at his Master's serious expression when asking Ben to act as if he meant to kill him. He looked down at his light sabre and deactivated it.

"I'm not willing," said Ben before throwing his hilt away and walking out towards the balcony where Qui-Gon had been meditating.

Qui-Gon walked over to pick up his own as well as Ben's light sabre. The craftsmanship of Ben's blade was superb. It was, indeed, a beautiful blade. It seemed to him that most of Ben's efforts in his Jedi training went towards his image of the classic knight, running off to save his princess with nothing but his trusty sword and steed. Ben did everything he could to live up to that honourable – all the while immature – picture until just then, when an old man, not a Krayt Dragon from the desert planet of Tatooine guarding a princess on top of a lonely tower, defeated him without contest. Qui-Gon Jinn walked over to the young Obi-Wan Kenobi and dropped the hilt in his lap before sitting down next to him.

"That is a beautiful blade, Obi-Wan."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I believe that the beauty of that device of yours is the beauty that you see in the spirit of the Force, that you strive consistently to live up to, and that you wish to have others perceive in you."

Ben remained silent after receiving that insightful compliment, and Qui-Gon could tell that Ben was still disappointed in himself. They both waited while looking at the sunset on Coruscant.

"So... are you really a heretic?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Heretics aren't typically allowed to take apprentices, or retain their position of knighthood."

"Yea, but apparently being best friends with Master Windu keeps you from getting kicked out, yea?"

Qui-Gon giggled a little before responding, "My crazy beliefs, as you call them, have nothing to do with Jedi practice, but rather with our understanding of the nature of the Force."

"Wait... you're not one of those crazies teaching about midiclorians are you?"

Qui-Gon laughed heartily before reassuring his apprentice, "No young one, not that. Although I wouldn't call them crazy, just misguided. My belief centres on the nature of the Force in itself. Let me ask you: what is it that we mean when we speak of the will of the Force?"

"Well, we mean the Jedi Code that we are called to follow," replied Obi-Wan.

"Indeed. But what does it mean for the Force to will something, or to call people to its ways in following the Code?"

"Uh... I don't know."

"Precisely! This is precisely the same answer I receive from the Grand Masters to that very question. But how can we attribute will to something that is impersonal? How can we say the Force calls out to us if it does not have a state of intentionality only applicable to a mind?"

"Wait wait wait. A mind? You think the Force is a person?"

"It is the only explanation left besides 'I don't know', and I am not willing to say that that is the end of the story. My trust in the Living Force is warranted based on the very nature of states of intentionality and how the Force itself has these intentions. It is a mind that clearly exists, and it is about all living things. A mind of immeasurable power and greatness."

Obi-Wan pondered this for a moment.

"Well, that is crazy," he finally said. "I'm sure some Grand Masters would even say dangerous."

"Indeed, but truth is truth whether it is safe or not. What we want to believe to be true and what is true are often two very different things."

"And do you think you're an exception to that?"

Now Qui-Gon took a moment to think.

"No, Obi-Wan, I suppose I'm not."

"Then I guess we're just back where we started about this whole thing about the 'nature of the Force'. It's just your experience against theirs'."

Qui-Gon smiled. The young man was indeed wise.

"Obi-Wan, I was there when you were on trial. Why did you recommend such a lenient punishment towards your persecutor?"

"I don't know," he said. "I was angry at her for what she did, but I didn't hate her. I don't hate her. I actually... well, I just want her and other people like her to stop hating us."

Qui-Gon took a long time before responding to his apprentice.

"If I could go back to being your age, I wish I could be as wise as you are now. It would have saved me a lot of trouble. You were defeated today in practically every way. But don't let your spirit be crushed in that defeat. Let this teach you how much you have left to learn, and recognize that you have the potential to learn it. That potential of yours is greater than any student I have ever had the pleasure of training."

"Right." said Ben. "Student. I guess I lost our bet. So I guess you're the one to teach me those things I have left to learn, Master Jinn."

"I already explained my views on the master/student relationship. Call me Quin. Is it alright if I call you Ben?"

Ben looked up at his master, who had a serious face but was somehow smiling with his eyes.

"Sure," he said. "Ben's okay."

"But don't think I'm letting you get away with it that easily. I told you I would put your loud mouth to good use."

* * *

Crackling over the temple intercom came a voice Master Yoda immediately recognized.

"Sir Qui-Gon Jinn is a Jedi Knight of the highest quality in the Order. He is kind, patient, and handsome to... boot? What does that even mean Mast- I mean Quin? Okay. Uh... He is not actually as crazy as I thought and most importantly, completely mopped the floor with my face in the duelling arena. Is that it? Oh. This is Ben Kenobi. Uh. Bye now."


	3. Barely a Nation

**Barely a Nation**

Staring out the palace window was Padme, the Queen of a hardly significant number of humans who banded together only a few generations ago to try, once again, to form a new homeworld for themselves. She seemed sad, even through the thick layers of makeup meant to make her look austere and above biased emotional states when making judgements for her people.

Her great, great grandfather was the first one in her royal line to establish the house of Amidalla. He had the right kind of charisma to gather enough pull to cause a mass exodus of humans. Normally when this would happen, as it so often did in galactic human history, some other species or extra-species race, such as the mandelorians, would brutally crush the ill-equipped and poverty stricken humans. What made this world of Naboo so different was that it rested on the borders of the Outer Rim and already contained an indigenous species, the gungans, making it significantly risky for planetary bombardment by "unsanctioned" human-haters. This was first because of its proximity to the Outer Rim, a sector of the galaxy just waiting for a reason to engage in outright rebellion, and second because of the political blow back that wiping out an innocent indigenous people would cause for whatever politicians who were stupid enough to attempt it. Unfortunately for the Republic, their politicians were never very bright.

After some successful swaying of the public against human colonialism, the first bombardment of Naboo took place. The Outer Rim declared itself a separate sector of space distinct from the Republic, justifying the rebellion by using the atrocities committed against the gungans of Naboo by the Republic. And so, the Outer Rim Schism began and lasted generations until about twenty years ago when both sides were so exhausted by losses that they both simply stopped fighting. Naboo's proximity to the Outer Rim finally gave it some peace during this time, as the Republic and Outer Rim both regrouped at their respective centres of power far away from Naboo's borders. Noobian space essentially became a cultural and economic backwater, but the power vacuum allowed the humans on Naboo to thrive very well under the reign of King Rion, Padme's father.

Near the end of his reign, however, one particularly nasty inter-galactic trading company and military corporation, the Trade Federation, decided to bolster its terrible public image by creating a blockade of Naboo, a peaceful way to attack the new human homeworld, which kept the Republic happy and the Outer Rim indifferent, allowing senators to issue trade sanctions from the safety of their own homes while the new and innovative use of droid armies by the Trade Federation enforced them all the way out in Noobian space. Cut off from intergalactic trade, the human population began overusing the planet's resources, straining the relations with the indigenous gungans, causing even more bitterness between the two species. It wasn't long before all-out war broke out on the planet over its increasingly declining resources. Before Queen Padme's father died, he drove the gungans back to their evolutionary starting point under water, a shameful prospect for the amphibious gungan upper class who found great status in living above water. But that was not the end of the war. As a final act of hatred against their human enemies who now held them underfoot, a suicide mission of gungans struck a blow against the house of Amidalla by assassinating practically the entire house except for one little girl who managed to escape – Padme – while King Rion was away signing the peace treaty between their two peoples. It was a bitter victory indeed, and out of grief and from the injuries acquired from the war, King Rion died, leaving the throne to a little girl.

Now sixteen, she was considered ready to handle the many decisions a Queen had to make for her people, but none of them were good. She hated war and all the suffering it brought; she would do anything to avoid bringing more of it to her people, but the gungan diplomats were beginning to get more aggressive in their demands and despite the Noobian humans finally being recognized by the Galactic Senate – mainly thanks to Minister Ki-Adi Mundi's intrinsic rights appeal before the Senate and the human friendly representatives of the planet Alderaan – having a brilliant senator from Naboo did little to reduce the sanctions when a thousand others outvoted him. Senator Palpatine had just returned to Naboo to inform Queen Amidalla that his latest appeal had gained very little in their favour. War with either the gungans or the neimodians, the race backing the Trade Federation as their primary share holders, seemed unavoidable.

"I will not lead my people into another war," she declared.

"But your highness-"

Senator Palpatine was cut off by the forceful Queen, "Silence, Senator. We have seen enough death. If we are to have any sympathy from the Senate, we must work towards peace: first with our gungan neighbours, then with the neimodians who can finally end this blockade."

"I think you underestimate gungan hatred and galactic fear of our species, your Highness," Palpatine responded.

"Then I will change their estimation of us," came her brusque reply.

Palpatine was something of an enigma to Padme. He sounded just as sincere whether he preached peace or encouraged war, and his meteoric rise to power without any significant achievements struck her as suspicious. His actual political positions seemed difficult to pinpoint since he was so adept at adapting to whatever view he deemed advantageous to changing circumstances, making him seem almost slushy or spineless. But he was a product of Naboo, a hard man to be sure, raised in war and no stranger to fighting with his fists as much as with his words. Being the galactic representative of Naboo gave him significant authority, making him a third threat for the Queen to be wary of besides the gungans and the Trade Federation.

She had very little room to manoeuvre if she intended to lead her people, and she believed to her core that her leadership was necessary for her people to survive. Naboo may not be the native world of humanity – in fact, no one knew where the humans came from – but she would carve and shape it into a new one through her philosophy, an inheritance of cumulative wisdom acquired by learning from her ancestors' successes and mistakes, further adapting it to her own experience of having lost every family member she ever loved. She was, perhaps ironically, aggressively pacifistic. She was prepared to martyr herself for her people if it meant their survival, and this degree of commitment meant she was highly suspicious of leaders among her people whose intentions she could not properly gauge, such as Palpatine.

The senator saw too much strength in the Queen's pacifist position, making it foolish for him to attack it head on. He would have to dismantle her position from a different angle.

"Your highness, for all the structures of power and class that exist in this galaxy, there are ultimately only two levels of society. There is the individual who makes up the collective in society, and then there is the collective making up the society itself. The individual who makes up society cannot ever exit out of himself and pretend to be society itself as a whole, projecting his will on it, as he is merely an individual part of it. And society itself, as a whole, has a sort of consciousness that emerges out of it which we call culture. You, your majesty, are merely an individual, for all your power and status, and are responsible for maintaining our Noobian collective consciousness. And yet, you are deciding for yourself as an individual how you want to live and not for the whole of this society. You fancy yourself a martyr for the cause of peace, but really you were already sacrificed by your ancestors when they created a House of Royalty bearing your name. You are just as much an individual as everyone else, but you also have a responsibility which no one else has, which will force you, yes I say force you, to make decisions for the sake of this society that will cost you your integrity as an individual. If you are unwilling to make the right decision for this society, then you have the right to relinquish your crown and leave yourself to your pacifism," and so was the stern rebuke of the Queen's position, relayed masterfully by mixing personal attacks on her and her House that were cleverly disguised by portraying her as the victim of circumstance. This made her feel every bite of the attack without giving her any way to adequately respond. So was the political genius of the senator representing Naboo.

Seeing her struggle to respond, Governor Sio Bibble of the capital city of Theed intervened, "The gungan delegates are likely growing impatient, majesty. We should set aside our disagreements and show a unified front as we approach the negotiating table. If we show any weakness at all, we will surely lose everything."

"Fair council, Governor, but that would not be the case if violence were an option," Palpatine responded.

"Violence begets violence," Bibble interjected. "The only logical way to achieve peace with it is to exterminate those who can use it against us, which is a means no end can justify."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow and said, "I see you have formed her thoughts well, and have included yourself into the conversation only after I provided strong opposition to her views. Perhaps the Queen's intentions contain less conviction and more dogma than I had originally anticipated."

The room became silent.

"You are dismissed, Senator," came the Queen's only reply.

At that, Senator Palpatine gave a curt bow before excusing himself from the throne room. Governor Bibble, a long time adviser of the Queen's father, practically raised her from the time she was six, and groomed her to become the queen that Naboo needed. They left the throne room side by side as he escorted her to the main hall where she would have to once again confront gungan diplomats on increasingly aggressive border disputes.

"Don't let the Senator's words discourage you, Padme," he told her as they walked. "Your father would have been proud of what you've been able to achieve based on your platform of peace."

"And what have I achieved, Sio? I'm practically stuck in these negotiations interminably while the gungans press on our borders. Maybe Palpatine is right. Maybe I need to reconsider my approach."

"Considering that there are actual negotiations taking place, I would say that you have achieved quite a bit. You also managed to free the city of Sarta from gungan terrorist occupation in a joint human/gungan operation. No one has been able to manage these things before you. These things take time, my dear."

"I don't know, Sio. I feel like the only reason they agreed to these negotiations is because they see me as a little girl and a weak leader, and they want to take advantage of that."

"You're sounding more like a Queen advised by Palpatine than a Queen advised by Bibble. Remember who you are and where you come from. I have never kept anything about your heritage hidden from you. The strength you need to lead your people is in in your veins, if not as a biological outworking of it than at least from the fact that the entirety of humanity, even those scattered across the galaxy, look to you as an icon of leadership and hope. That belief that they have in you, that hope, is more powerful than any individual's convictions, pacifist or otherwise."

She felt a bit overwhelmed by that little speech, but she also felt empowered and encouraged. All the knowledge and training from her royal advisers didn't seem to float away on some cloud named Concept, but were firmly grasped in her hands as tools she could use to build the world her people needed. She could do this. She took a deep breath before nodding to her guards to open the doors to the main hall.

She walked in to a dozen gungans standing by the negotiating table, with a few governors and royal advisers on the human side, including Palpatine who rushed to find a seat at the right hand of the Queen after leaving her presence in the throne room. The Queen knew that there was no tradition among her people about the right hand side of a ruler containing any symbolic power, but she knew, and assumed that Palpatine knew also, that sitting at the right hand of the gungan monarchs, the bosses, carried significant meaning for them. No one else on the human side of the room picked up on this except her, and she couldn't tell him to move as it would make the human front seem internally divisive and weak. She could only bow and take her seat before the rest of the delegation took theirs, now with Palpatine's words carrying more weight than she ever would have allowed. All the pieces were set, and it was time for the Queen to make her play.

"My fellow advisers, and our most honourable guests representing the gungan people of Naboo-"

"Naboo?!" interrupted a new gungan ambassador at the table, Chief Akaba. "This is a human term that never belonged to this planet. You do not own us, as you do not own our planet!" and the chiefs and bosses nodded their heads in agreement, despite the fact that they as well as the humans in the room knew that this was a blatant falsehood created by gungan propagandists to promote further hatred of the human occupiers.

"I did not misspeak, Chief Akaba, and as you very well know these talks are not to be broadcast to the public at large. You can save your political posturing for an audience that believes it," replied Amidala.

Boss Nass, the de facto leader of the gungans, burst out in laughter in response to the Queen's statement, "This little one is more fierce and articulate than our Chief Akaba, but this should not be considered too significant a feat," he said while Akaba took his seat visibly embarrassed by his attempt to intimidate the new human monarch. "But his sentiment is shared by our people. This planet is now more associated with you humans than with the gungans."

"Very well," responded Queen Amidala. "What would you have us call this planet?"

Everyone in the room fell silent. True enough, Naboo was the Galactic Republic's term for the planet containing a species that were not space worthy and were never consulted on the name, but it was the human settlements that made it galactically relevant. The humans merely adopted the name, and Noobian became synonymous with human. For the Queen to make such a concession was completely unexpected and at least superficially undermined human authority in this sector of space.

Senator Palpatine leaned in as if to speak in the Queen's ear, but this was only for show as he spoke audibly to the entire room, "Your highness, the gungans are a strong people, and they already perceive you as weak. If you grant them this they will-"

"I will show them what strength there is in weakness," she replied before he could finish. "What would you have us call it?" she continued.

Palpatine became silent. Boss Nass smiled at the Queen's ability to command the room despite the highly sensitive and controversial subject matter on both sides.

"We will call it, Gunga!" came his reply.

"Very well. I accept this name as equally valid as Naboo. Henceforth, this planet shall be identified as Gunga-Naboo to the galaxy."

"No," came Nass' reply. "Only Gunga. We have suffered much under the feet of humans. We will not be called a conquered people to the galaxy."

Palpatine responded first, "Unfortunately, Boss Nass, to the galaxy at large you are in fact a conquered people."

But before that outrageous comment of Palpatine's could garner a gungan reaction, the Queen spoke up as if to finish Palpatine's thought, "And it is a hideous truth about our past indeed – a truth we are here today to respond to and alter, not maintain. We cannot get into a discussion of who has suffered more than the other, as the pain that comes with personal loss, the sort that we have all suffered to some degree or another, is infinite in every instance. This is the struggle of finding justice in a situation so mired in injustice.

"We, the Noobians, have now been on this planet for more than four generations. We have established families, homes, entire cities and provinces. Our relocation is no longer an option at this table. But more than that, none of us living today and sitting at this table were here when the decision was first made by my ancestors to settle this planet. We are, each of our species, co-inheritors of the wars and sufferings caused by our ancestors. We didn't have a choice to be born into their mess. And so, I put this forward to everyone seated at this table. Is their cause, which none of us had a say in, worth our lives and the lives of our sons and daughters?"

Governor Sio Bibble kept his composure but felt inexpressible pride in his pupil. She was more than brilliant when given the opportunity to speak her mind, and her charisma was such that he would follow her even to his death.

And so, Sio was first to speak, "I am not willing. I was a part of the last war, as you all know, and led many engagements against your people. One of the consequences was the loss of my only son. I cannot take back the sons and daughters I have taken from your people, or the Noobian ones that were lost at the expense of our war. I can only agree with my queen thanks to the wisdom I acquired from hindsight, and live the rest of my life in regret for the foolishness I once propounded."

After the Governor's testimony, the Noobian side of the table seemed to lean towards the side of their queen and back her position. Both sides knew there was no way the Noobians would willingly leave at this point, so the only solution was either war or cooperation of a sort that only someone with as clear a vision as Queen Amidalla could actualize.

Boss Nass looked at the Noobians pensively before responding to them, "We do not believe that our ancestors are to be disrespected as you seem willing to do. But more than this, we do not trust you."

"And you have good reason not to. But with all due respect, Boss Nass, I have just as legitimate a reason to mistrust the opposition," replied the Queen. "My family was slaughtered after the Peace Treaty of Sarta was signed. But I do not wish to let that mistrust guide my actions and cause more damage and pain than the loss of my family has already created. Peace cannot be a cause for offence, ancestral or otherwise, and I firmly believe that peace cannot be maintained with one people subjugated to another. Gunga-Naboo is not a name promoting subjugation, but instead two species working together as coequals."

Boss Nass looked to his side of the table and they seemed to come to some sort of agreement.

"We tentatively agree to this name of our planet for the duration of these peace talks," Boss Nass said.

Now it was time for Senator Palpatine to play his hand, "As the galactic representative of this planet, I would be happy to oblige the will of this meeting on a galactic scale, should the gungans be willing to make the change permanent. Moreover, a true sign that strength has returned to the gungan people, and that they are not a people subjected to a foreign power, would be to join me on my next visit to the Galactic Senate to officially inaugurate the planet to the galaxy at large. We will happily have the gungans represent themselves in the senate as Noobians, and we will have the gungans host the inauguration ceremony to be sure to give your people the voice that they so desperately need on a galaxy-wide scale."

And that was the last little push the gungans needed to agree fully with the Queen's offer to change the name of Naboo to Gunga-Naboo. Palpatine piggy-backed off Amidalla's offer with an even better one that she could not offer at the table, now putting him in the lead of these negotiations as the gungans travelled to the galactic capital with Senator Palpatine. There was only one option left for the Queen if she wished to stay informed on talks between the gungans and a senator she didn't trust.

"I will accompany you for this momentous occasion to the Senate," she said.

Governor Bibble spoke first, "But your highness! You are our Queen, and are meant to care of your people in domestic matters!"

"The governor is right,of course," Senator Palpatine added. "Let the galactic politicians handle galactic matters."

"The peace we seek is not to be lived at the Senate but domestically – here on Naboo. If we wish to show a united planet to the galaxy, then both the gungan and the human leaders will need to go to the ceremony as one people: the Noobians. I have made up my mind on the matter," said the Queen, knowing full well that the world she was about to enter by leaving Naboo was nothing she was even remotely prepared for.

* * *

Sio Bibble continued to protest as Padme and a selection of her handmaidens packed her things for the trip.

"But your majesty! You are the last born of your house! How could you expose yourself to that level of risk with that man-"

 _Jealousy?_

"Enough, Sio!" she said with authority tinged with the sort of exasperation one expresses when an overbearing family member intrudes. "We have spent the last two months arranging things in our government for my departure, and as for my leave, I can take care of myself. And you know I have you to thank for that."

Bibble looked down, a little flustered by the compliment. "Well, I don't _know_ that..." he managed to mumble out. After regaining his composure, "But I do know that the leaders of our people are no strangers to suffering. And it is easy to forget that you are our leader, and will have to bear the brunt of that suffering, even though I'd rather you not."

His statement was as much a prophetic warning as it was a proclamation of genuine concern and care. It was time the Queen accepted the suffering destined in her role.

"I am not your son, Governor," she stated flatly. "You will refrain from making such comments in the future."

Bibble paused, then, "Understood, your majesty..." and after a slow bow, he left the presence of the Queen.

She turned back to her things and noticed the handmaidens staring at the scene playing out before them before they immediately went back to packing.

Not one to relegate a burden she is not herself prepared to bear, she dragged some wheeled luggage behind her as she made her way to the royal ship along with her maidens. The ship was not a lovely thing to behold, but it obviously used to be. It had been painted an audacious and highly reflective silver to not only hide as many of its rough spots as possible but to give it some air of importance. To the rich elites of other cultures, the word "trashy" would come to mind.

"This is so beautiful!" said Dal'An, the first born of Boss Nass, either too young or naive to be jaded enough by his enemies to refrain from paying a compliment. "We will finally have a voice among the stars, while we ourselves ride one!"

Boss Nass was not so willing to praise a human creation, but it was obvious that he was impressed with it.

"It is nothing like the bongo I had made for your mother, though, is it?" he said, drawing on both culture and family to remind his son why they were leaving.

"No, father, it isn't," he replied.

"Indeed!" interjected Palpatine. "Soon the galaxy will know full well that nothing travels faster across the ocean than one of your bongos."

This, of course, was not true, as any Republic sea cruiser could easily outrun the extremely efficient but still archaic bongo, but truth matters little when extolling ego.

"Yes!" Boss Nass puffed up his frog-like, heavy frame, with some difficulty considering his immense weight, and continued with his arms up in the air in dramatic fashion, "Gungans make fastest vehicles in the sea!"

Padme didn't trust Palpatine, but she could at least recognize how competent he was. Senator Palatine was a tall man, quite thin, with a commanding gaze that captured the attention of his interlocutors. He wore a standard suit popular among twi'leks not only because they were humanoids of about the same build as a human but because they were also a people beloved by the Republic, making up much of the upper class's artists, politicians, and activists. They were trendsetters, masters of culture, and this was likely due to their rather unique empathic ability to feel what it is that others do in any given moment. Emulation was key, then, for Palpatine to show that he was not interested in rocking the galactic culture boat, which would only make humanity be perceived as even more of a threat to the galaxy at large. His charm was in making whoever he was talking to feel as if they were the most important person in the room, even if it meant flattering different people with different political persuasions with contradictory statements. His personality overcame his logical weaknesses as far as the people interacting with him were concerned, making it difficult to call out those contradictions for fear of turning the room against whoever was perceptive enough to see through the charade. Every time he moved, every bit of clothing, all of his mannerisms and niceties were carefully calculated and constructed to make Palpatine who he was, and this person, at least to Padme, did not at all seem to be alive in a genuine sense. His personality was like a corpse stitched together with different body parts, and when he wasn't politicking he was as cold as a cadaver.

"Your Highness!" his steely gaze turned its attention to her. "Allow me to carry your luggage."

"I am thankful for the request but deny it nonetheless," she said. It was quite rude of her to do so without stating a reason, but that didn't mean she didn't have any. She was already on her way to the Galactic Senate, which meant she was going into a political situation where she would be at a significant political disadvantage, and she knew that around Palpatine, every time she spoke, moved, decided on her choice of food or clothing, she was giving away precious information about her personality and psychological state that he would read and eventually use against her – or so she thought.

"Then allow me, your Majesty," said Dal'An, who took the luggage without bowing or even waiting for a response.

"Of course," she said, knowing full well that even if she wanted to she couldn't say no to the son of Boss Nass' request. Besides, surely the willingness to be courteous exhibited by the future leader of the gungans was a sign of good things to come?

Once on board they began their ascent. The trip they were undertaking was no small event. It could take weeks depending on how well a ship's hyperstatic feedback rods could maintain the shift from space to hyperspace without needing to be vented – hyperspace being a state created around a vessel by its engines which pull the vehicle faster than light itself. One would expect royalty to travel in top of the line vessels, but considering the economic strain of the Noobians and their spaceless neighbours the gungans, that luxury could not be afforded. As for the normally grounded gungans, the whole experience was like riding a rollercoaster with private bed chambers instead of seats. But before they could get comfortable, they would have to pass through the neimodian blockade, under strict orders to allow the inter-galactic representatives to pass through. The neimodians, however, were known for concocting conspiracies, and the number of "accidents" their business competitors experienced that allowed the Trade Federation to develop something of a monopoly on trade in this sector did not induce confidence that Palpatine and Boss Nass' presence were enough to stop them from being assassinated, especially if they found out that Queen Amidala was on board. She was therefore not dressed in full royal ceremony, only as a noble lady of Theed, travelling as an aid to Senator Palpatine under the pseudonym Mrs. Liya DeBastille. Luckily for her, gungan sentiment towards the neimodians was just as bad as Noobian sentiments, making them a common enemy to rally around. The Queen's identity would be kept secret by all parties involved until her presentation at the Senate was announced alongside Boss Nass' – at least, that was the hope, and at the word of the pilot a cold silence could be felt among the ship's occupants, even Palpatine seemed nervous.

After a series of crackles and hisses, a mechanical voice could be heard from the intercomm, "Noobian vessel, you are attempting to cross the restricted zone into open space. For your own protection, please return to Naboo forthwith."

Padme looked over at Palpatine, whose face did not even flinch at the blatant lie propounded by whatever droid stand-in the neimodians had put in place to protect their interests. She almost felt a sort of admiration for him, now realizing the level of propaganda he had to tear down to represent his people on a galactic scale.

"Pilot," Palpatine said. "Open a channel. This is Senator Hilbrand Palpatine, representative of Naboo in the Galactic Senate. You are under strict orders to allow my safe passage through the blockade per galactic law." More hissing and static could be heard on the other end without any response. Palpatine looked over to Padme, who was visibly perturbed by the whole situation. He leaned in and spoke quietly, "The problem with droids is that they cannot meaningfully interact with us organics. They are calculating the probabilities involved in furthering neimodian interests by either obeying or disobeying the Senate's instructions. Let us hope that nothing has changed since my arrival on Naboo." This did absolutely nothing to comfort Padme, but she was grateful to at least understand their current predicament enough to more easily accept any eventuality – even if it should be death. The hissing stopped.

"Please provide your ship's manifest," came the hollow voice.

Palpatine nodded to the pilot who spoke next, "Uploading manifests now."

More waiting. Padme couldn't stand it. Liya DeBastille? How could she have thought of such an stupid name for her pseudonym. Again, the hissing stopped.

"Please proceed through the blockade by following these coordinates," it said.

The tension in the room finally lifted, but not completely. There were still several weeks travel left, but Padme felt comforted that a man with Palpatine's experience in dealing with the dangers of outer space was there to guide them on a safe route to Coruscant.


	4. The Inner Conflict

**The Inner Conflict**

Ben lazily hit the snooze button on his alarm clock.

"Just a few more minutes..." he groggily said to himself.

Right when he was about to close his eyes once more, he remembered it was his first day back at the academy after break, where he was learning to be an officer for the Republic Military. He shot up from his mat and ran to the temple showers to get ready for his day. After getting into his uniform, he blazed through the cafeteria kitchen, bypassing the line, grabbing what portable foodstuffs he could before heading out to the air bus.

"Obi-Wan!" cried a hooded man from outside the temple doors.

"Mast- ...Quin? What are you doing here? I'm not lending you any more money..."

"With me, padawan. We must see the Council. It is an urgent matter."

Ben looked at his master in disbelief.

"Now?! Really? After three months of on and off training where you wouldn't even show up half the time 'cuz you were busy playing Pazaak at the casino, and now is when you decide to use up my time? I'm sorry but I'm not coming. I have to be on time for my first day at the academy."

"You are taking an extended leave of absence. I've already discussed this with your professors," Quin replied.

Ben dramatically dropped the food in his hands before walking back in to the temple.

"That's my future you're putting on hold, Quin! I hope you realize that!"

"I know, Ben. You'll understand once we speak with the Council."

Ben gave Quin the silent treatment while heading up to the Council chambers. Once they entered the room every sitting member of the Council was in attendance. This was rather rare unless it was some religious holiday, but Ben couldn't think of which one it could be. Maybe Quin wasn't lying after all.

Quin began, "Members of the Council, I thank you for assembling on such short notice. As you know, I've been searching for my previous apprentice since his exile from the Order. I have reason to believe that he is behind the Sith cult that has been spreading in the lower levels of Coruscant."

Ben looked up at his master questioningly. He had mentioned that he had had previous students, but never any that turned to the Dark Side of the Force. Usually when a Jedi – particularly one receiving the training of a knight – is excommunicated, the Council assembles to discuss the degree of danger associated with the defectors, or the exiles as the Order puts it, to the public at large. A Jedi Knight was a warrior, and even monks internalized conflicts using knighthood as a symbol of spiritual battle. They were trained in very dangerous martial arts, and those rare enough to be adept at using the Force could be extremely dangerous. A loose cannon could significantly damage the public perception of the Jedi Order, and it is not uncommon in some areas of the galaxy to have Jedis, even laypersons who simply follow the Code, accused of witchcraft. Considering the extreme danger one such person could pose, the public at large accepted the ancient practice of the Jedi to incarcerate or even execute their own members should they turn to the Dark Side. But this was usually a role reserved for members of the Inquisition, a group of Knights whose identities remain secret to everyone in the Order except the Grand Masters who sit on the Council. Was Quin one of the inquisitors?

Mace Windu spoke first, "So your crazy apprentice finally showed up? What makes you think he has anything to do with that cult?"

Ben knew that cults like this would spring up from time to time and usually die out within a few years. It was usually Jedi laypersons and clergy members who rejected some core teaching about the Way, which usually led them to find answers where they could, more often than not in the Sith Scriptures. The Sith writings were banned from the Republic of course, but for any one clever enough, finding a copy on the black market was relatively easy and introduced a whole new set of doctrines that many exiles felt gave purpose and meaning to their doubts.

Quin responded, "I have been in contact with many members of the cult in order to minister and call them to repentance. I discovered that their brand of Sithism is being well funded – enough to build a temple for themselves. I 'convinced' one of their leaders to reveal their source of income. It turns out they've been getting funds from Mr. Frisk's line of casinos. Mr. Frisk seems to be quite sympathetic to their message of the powerful succeeding where the weak fail. Appropriate, one would think."

Casinos? Well that explained quite a bit about why Quin was spending so much time playing Pazaak instead of training Ben. But something told him that Quin enjoyed the games for more than just his investigation.

"I fail to see how this has anything to do with with your former apprentice," Windu insisted.

"Mr. Frisk hasn't gone public with his support for fear of losing investors. He has been using agents to communicate between the cult leadership and himself. I decided to track one of these agents. I couldn't be sure as he was hooded, but I felt his presence, and it was unmistakeably his. I was about to confront him when I lost track of him."

Ben wasn't sure a "feeling" was enough to convince anyone on the Council of anything, although he had heard stories about some Jedi whose intuitions seemed to be more intuitive than intuitions should normally be, some even claiming to receive premonitions. But surely those were just myths? Mace Windu seemed to at least partly agree with what Ben was thinking as he began to speak sceptically.

"Sir Qui-Gon, you know that this Council has trusted you in these matters, even placing you as Head of the Inquisition, but a feeling-"

Ben forgot all etiquette and in authentic amazement cried out with skepticism while pointing at Quin, "He's the Head of the Inquisiton?!"

No wonder he couldn't beat him in a duel. Quin could probably go toe to toe with Mace Windu. The head of the Inquisition would have to be able to take down even an exiled grand master, which is why Ben always thought that the head of the branch would be a grand master himself, not just a regular Jedi Knight like Quin.

"To yourself, keep such questions, padawan," came his former master's corrective. "Master Windu, continue."

"Thank you Master Yoda. Your feelings are in tune with the force, yes. But hunting down a dangerous exile in a Sith cult will only remind the public of our past wars of religion. It would be a public relations catastrophe, and if the government decides to ignore our past precedent of separating religion from politics and starts to place sanctions on us, it is the weakest of us who will end up paying the highest price. We don't have enough public support to stop a political steamroller should one come our way. You need to be sure."

"Your worries are understood, Master Windu," replied Quin. "But it is more than just a feeling. As I said, I have been ministering to the cultists about our Way, and learning about their teachings in the process. As secretive as the Sith usually are, I managed to listen in on one of their secret rites: they have a belief in a chosen one who will bring balance to the Force."

This seemed to have gotten the grand masters' attention.

"Quin," said Windu despairingly. "What have you done?"

"The free decisions of his padawan are not Sir Qui-Gon's responsibility," came Yoda's response.

"But he is the one who brought back that crazy idea. Ever since your vision after we crashed-"

"It wasn't a vision. Sir Revan was there, and I spoke with him."

"Yes Quin, I know you think that. And we've heard all about your conversation and the spiritual teachings you've worked out from it. But if you only had a little more faith in solid doctrine instead of your own feelings this whole mess could have been avoided."

Quin took a moment to ponder the Grand Master's words and then responded, "Yes, Master Windu, perhaps you're right. But the fact of the matter is that this is the mess we have to clean up."

Master Windu took a deep breath before beginning deliberations with the other Council members on how to proceed.

"Very well," said Yoda once the discussions were over. "Investigate further, you must. In absolute secrecy, proceed."

"Thank you, Masters," and Quin, along with Ben, bowed courteously before leaving.

When the two stepped out of the Council Chamber, Ben was amazed and sorely confused.

"Quin? What just happened in there?"

"My former apprentice is an exile proficient in the use of the force, and willing to use it for nefarious purposes. My branch is tasked with finding such individuals, and I decided to pursue this one myself. Since you are my student, and my target is one of my former apprentices, I feel that it may be appropriate to have you come with me. Also, I can certainly use your expertise in arms training in case things get... messy."

"What was that about Revan? A chosen one?"

"It is a long story, Ben," and at that, Quin remained silent.

He was stern the whole way through the meeting and seemed unwilling to explain more than the bare minimum. Losing a student was difficult for any master, but when one fell to the Dark Side, the sense of responsibility and shame must be unimaginable.

"Can I at least know where we're going?" asked Ben.

"To the red light district in Central District. Some of their funds are being funnelled through prostitution rings. There are more Sith agents there than in the upper class casinos where it is rare to find an exchange of funds happening. We will begin our investigation there."

The red light district on the top level was not like the ones below it. There was no fear of blatant criminal activity as men and women advertised their 'wares' in public posters, ads, and in the windows to their apartments. The real criminal underworld operated just on the outskirts of the district where prostitutes and drug dealers sold their products outside of the purview and heavy taxation of the law, allowing patrons to acquire a significant discount but at a much higher risk to their safety and satisfaction with their product. Quin bypassed the tacky ads and decorations of the brothels and moved to those outskirts. Despite it being the early morning, the base of the super sky-scrapers remained perpetually dark and artificially lit, and it was here that the underworld showed its public face on the streets. Ben followed Quin down a dark alley when he stopped and knocked on a door lacking any obvious handles or other door controls to open it. A slit at eye level opened up.

"Who 't is?" came a rough voice.

"I am Quin, and this is my apprentice Ben. We are Jedi mendicants come to seek alms from the lady of the brothel."

This was unbelievable to Ben. No Jedi would in their right mind beg alms from a brothel owner, and the bouncer would surely laugh them off. But to his great surprise, the door swung open and they were let in. The bouncer, however, did laugh as he welcomed the holy men into the establishment.

"The lady and her girls are very generous with their 'gifts', aren't they Jedi?" he asked rhetorically.

Quin smiled with Ben in tow and kept moving passed the bouncer. A muffled bass sound was pulsing through the walls as they walked down a flight of stairs and through another door at the bottom. Through the door the sound opened up and began to pound at Ben's ear drums so that he wondered how he would ever be able to hear anything besides the music. Looking around, however, revealed people conversing with one another and eyeing up the naked women on display, although how they spoke through the music Ben didn't know. He knew to keep Quin in close visual proximity since one of his senses was already taken out of commission, and this didn't seem like the safest establishment for him to be in without knowing or understanding underworld etiquette.

They approached a much more sinister looking bouncer at the back of the room, to whom Quin nodded, receiving a nod in return, and went through another door leading into a living quarters of some sort. It seemed liked the workers lived in the brothel much in the same way the monks lived in the temple. Finally they reached a room that Quin stopped at and took a deep breath before knocking.

"Come in!" came a voice from the inside.

Quin opened the door to reveal an old human woman sitting next to a small lamp reading a copy of the Code.

"Mum!" said Quin.

At this point Ben decided to give up on being surprised, as whatever he tried to expect turned out to be unexpected anyway.

"Quin!" came her shaky voice as a response as she slowly got up from her rocking chair to embrace her son. "Oh it is so good to see you again!" she continued as they held each other lovingly.

"Who is the new bouncer at the door?" asked Quin.

His mother sat back down before responding.

"Equs? Oh he's a bit slow, but is as kind hearted as they come."

"Isn't that a bit backwards from what a bouncer is supposed to be?" asked Quin.

"He isn't easily offended, but once he is, can take down a Gamorean warrior with his bare hands. Believe me, I saw it with my own eyes. For a human, that's saying something. Now what brings my son home to his mother, and who is this handsome young man you've brought with you?"

"This is my new apprentice, Ben Kenobi. Ben, this is my mother, Anka."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jinn," said Ben.

Anka had a hearty laugh, but that she was laughing left Ben to wonder what social faux-pas he had committed to elicit such a response from the old woman.

"You picked a good one this time, Quin!" she said. "Polite to a fault! Listen to me, young man, as that attitude might make you passable to high-born folk, but here it will make you a target to every pick pocket and crook around!"

Quin stepped in to defend him.

"He isn't as green as his mannerisms imply, mum."

"Oh, I can see that light sabre he carries with him on prominent display. I suppose if he knows how to use it he should be just fine here," she replied. "I'll have one of my girls take care of him while we catch up."

Ben interjected, "That won't be necessary, Mrs. Jinn. I'm fine on my own if you'd rather have a moment alone with your son."

"I'm sure you are, but a polite young man such as yourself should know not to reject the host's offers," she responded as she hit a buzzer on her night stand. A young woman came to the door. "Dearie, take this young man to the guest room and have him taken care of."

"Yes, ma'am," she responded with a curt bow and stepped beside the door implying that Ben should walk through it.

"Go on, Ben," said Quin. "You have nothing to fear here. Theoretically."

Ben wasn't so sure, but decided to trust his Master anyway and left. The woman immediately took the lead and brought him to a large back room filled with women and girls of all ages eating at long cheaply made tables. It was a cafeteria, and most of its frequenters were dressed in scraps – unusual for the top level of Coruscant. The room was big enough to have a small area for games as well as a small living area where he noticed a young woman teaching the little girls how to read and write on a blackboard as they wrote in their notebooks on the ground. She noticed Ben immediately but immediately went back to teaching the children. Ben's guide brought him to a seat at an empty table and went to fetch him a plate. It was of good quality and delicious, and he consumed it voraciously after having missed breakfast that morning. It seemed that being seated alone was a wise choice on the part of his guide, as many of the older women looked at him with suspicion. After a few minutes of eating by himself, the woman teaching the children sat next to him at the table.

"It's not a good idea to have an academy uniform and light sabre on display down here, you know," she said without an introduction.

"I didn't exactly have time to change before finding out I was coming," he replied.

"I'm Lyn," she said. "Try not to mind the stares. A lot of these women-"

"It's okay. I think I know. My name is Ben. I'm a Jedi apprentice of Sir Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Quin the Prodigal? That's a surprise considering what happened to his last one. But then this also explains what someone like you would be doing here. I could use a drink. You? Sandra!" she spoke up and extended her arm to wave down her waitress.

Lyn's sleeve pulled back in the process of waving her down, and he noticed a tattoo on her forearm: two criss-crossed light sabres at the centre of a circle, the blades being the only thing penetrating the border of the circle. It was a Sith symbol.

"Are you a convert?" asked Ben.

"I am, but not to the Code," she said.

"You're a member of that new Sith cult I've heard about?" Ben asked.

"No, just a faithful straggler from an old one," she replied.

"I find that symbol interesting," observed Ben of her forearm tattoo. "You know what it means, don't you? Only weapons ever break through the divine circle in Sith symbols."

"Sith worship power in all its forms," she replied. "Why should a place like this that celebrates the power of a woman's body over a man not promote that?"

"If that's what you think, then shouldn't the club be a better place for you then?" asked Ben accusingly.

She shook off the attempted insult and replied, "All it shows is the weakness of men in succumbing to lust."

"I'm not sure passion is a weakness, even by Sith standards. I can see why your cult faded into memory."

"If power is at the centre of our ideology, then it isn't consistency that matters but whoever can use that power to stay on top and prevent her enemies from getting the better of her."

"That's about the only consistent thing about your ideology, isn't it? Corrupt and subvert at all costs in an attempt to put yourself at the top. All anyone who wonders why Sith cults never last has to do is actually listen to what the Sith preach and they'll know that it will only ever devolve into chaos every time the Sith Monarch dies."

"Not if desire for that power is universal. If we make a society where becoming the monarch is the only societal game worth playing, then everyone will continue to play by those rules to preserve the system so they can be at the top. Empowering people is what the Sith do. That's why I'm here teaching these girls while the Jedi continue to decline in their temples."

"So the only weakness in your religion is variability? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're unique just like everyone else? Besides, I don't doubt the usefulness of power, only the nature of it when it is used by the Sith."

"Spoken like a true Jedi. You think that it is better to confine yourself to the will of others than it is to break free from them."

"No. I believe that it takes real strength to trust in others in spite of our inclination to do otherwise, and especially when we have very good reasons not to. If you worship power in all its forms, I would think you should be able to acknowledge that on some level, but I guess that's just another contradiction your religious system has inbuilt to keep you in check."

She looked over at the little girls she was just teaching, now playing and laughing in the game room with some older women watching over them. One of the older women noticed the time and told the others she had an appointment in the club. She quickly and silently made her way out hoping the children wouldn't notice.

"You don't know how bad it can be," Lyn said.

"Maybe. But then, that's all the more reason why we should respect those who don't reject trust despite having all the reason in the world to do so."

"I think that sounds more like stubbornness than strength," she said.

"Stubbornness is a lot like power. It's a lot less about the thing in itself and more about what it is you're being stubborn about."

"I hope my apprentice is not being too overbearing, Lyn," interrupted Quin.

"He's more dogmatic than you are, Prodigal. That isn't a compliment," she said.

"We all have our weaknesses," Quin giggled, knowing full well what he was implying with respect to her beliefs, but she only rolled her eyes while smirking before getting up to rejoin the children. "Ben, it's time to leave," Quin continued.

He got up and followed his master out. Equs, the bouncer, smiled at them as he let them out.

"Good gifts, eh?" he said. "Oh and may the Force be with you, eh?"

"And may it be with you, friend," Quin responded, followed by a similar goodbye from Ben.

Ben decided not to ask any questions and let Quin take the lead on divulging any personal information he may want to get off his chest. After a few moments, Quin did just that.

"You don't need to be so quiet, you know," he said. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I felt awkward about my past."

"Well, we have a job to do," was Ben's only reply, but Quin surely sensed his curiosity and began to explain himself.

"Master Yoda told me about you – the orphanage, your parents, and why you live as a monk but chose to pursue a career in the military."

Ben looked down when Quin mentioned his parents, but Quin continued.

"My own background was quite different from yours. I didn't grow up in any lower level slums. I grew up here, on the top level of the city. There weren't many things that humans could do to manage a life up here, especially for a mother with no husband or family support. She found support and community in a Sith cult that had some sway at the time but has long since dissipated. I was one of their acolytes growing up. But everything she did, she did for me. She is a Jedi now, though not very orthodox in keeping to the Code. She helps those in the lower levels move up to the top, just like she helped me when I was growing up."

Ben had nothing to say. He understood that doing whatever it took to get out of the hell under their feet was an absolute necessity, but questioned silently the lengths which some were willing to go in order to literally make it to the top.

"Where to now?" Ben asked.

"The casino," Quin replied. "We now have the name of Mr. Frisk's middleman between himself and the cult."

"One of the patrons of your mum's fine establishment, I assume?"

"Indeed – as well as the reason Equs was familiar with the Jedis' appreciation for the ladies' 'gifts'."


End file.
